My Daughter, A Witch
by Harry50
Summary: Hermione's mother views her girl growing.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, though I wish I did. They are all property of J.K. Rowling and her business associates.

**My Daughter, A Witch**

Hermione was only a few months old when she confused me for the first time.

I was washing her in the baby-bath, which she enjoyed very much. She used to splash water all over. I had to reach for the liquid soap which was on the shelf, just behind me. I kept Hermione safe using one hand while turning back to reach for the bottle. I heard a loud splash, much louder than usual. I turned immediately back. Hermione was giggling at me, holding a floating bath toy in her hand. I couldn't remember putting any toys in the bath, yet I could now see several colorful toys which Hermione grabbed gladly.

I could find no real explanation to what had happened. I had probably been just too tired and hadn't noticed when I gave her the toys – that was the most plausible explanation. Yet I wondered...

I've had several more incidents like this one, concerning other toys or her food bottle. They all happened when I was absent-minded or preoccupied, so I didn't think much about them.

It was a sunny Sunday, a welcome change after two weeks of constant rains. We took Hermione to the local park. She was wearing a new dress – one she got for her third birthday just a few days before. We played ball games and rolled on the wet grass. It was somewhat muddy as well. By the time we finished playing, we were all very happy but quite dirty. Hermione looked at us and then at her new dress. "Oh, no!" she said. She looked at her dress once again, and the mud and dirt started falling off the cloth. A few seconds later it looked fresh and clean as it had been before we left home.

I was really surprised, but my husband noted that "these new modern types of cloth are really ingenious, the way they repel dirt."

I accepted this explanation, yet I wondered...

Christmas Eve we went to my mother for the traditional dinner. Hermione got a new dress for the occasion, but at age five she was already a very opinionated lady. "I don't want pink! I want a blue dress!" she insisted.

"This was the most beautiful dress in that store and I'm sure you will look lovely in it" I told her. She continued nagging, saying she'd rather have it in blue. Eventually I became upset by her stubbornness. "You are going to wear this dress, regardless of its color!" I told her. She pouted, but let me dress her as I liked. We put on the heavy winter overcoats and drove away. We still had more than an hour driving to reach my parents' house. Hermione sat throughout our way with hands crossed over her chest and a sour face.

I felt quite agitated when we arrived. It was very much unlike Hermione to get me in such a mood. Once inside the house I took her overcoat to reveal her dress. It was now a magnificent purplish-blue which accentuated the small flowers embroided in the material, yet it was the same dress. "What happened to your dress?" I asked her, quite bewildered.

"You said I should wear it regardless of its color, so I wished it to be blue, exactly as I liked it" she said.

"You wished it? What do you mean?"

"I thought to it and asked it nicely to turn blue" she explained, making me even more confused.

"Well, never mind. Remember to behave yourself and to be nice to the other kids" I told her.

"I'm always nice to them, even when they are not so nice with me."

That night, after having tucked Hermione in, I had a serious talk with my husband. It was the first time we said the word "magic" in connection with our daughter. There were many more to come.

School was no fun for Hermione. Having learnt reading and writing at the age of three, she found school quite boring. While her class mates were struggling with books for first graders, she was already reading books intended for teenagers and adults. I had to be very careful about the books I was bringing home for me to read, as she was usually finishing reading them even before I read the first chapter. Her class mates didn't like the "book worm" as they called her. Her bushy hair and her prominent front teeth didn't help either. She was quite lonely at school, having no real friends. She was teased a lot, especially by the boys.

I was very annoyed to get a call from Hermione's school: "There was a very peculiar incident today in class. I believe you should come here and find out what happened."

"Is Hermione hurt?" I asked.

"No. She is perfectly well and she did nothing wrong, but something happened and we can't explain it. Can you come now?"

"I'm coming right away" I said, picking my handbag and my overcoat.

Hermione, who was waiting near the principal's office, looked as bewildered as I felt. A boy was sitting in the ante room, seeming to try and sit as far away from her as possible.

"Oh, I'm glad you could come" said the principal, inviting us all in. The boy chose to sit on my other side. He seemed to be frightened by Hermione, but I couldn't see why. He looked much bigger and stronger than her. The teacher joined us a moment later.

"Well, what happened?" I asked.

"Jack here sits behind Hermione in class. He does all kinds of mischief, mainly when I turn my back towards him. This time he was pulling Hermione's hair, probably several times, until she got very angry and told him that he would be punished if he ever tried this again. He wouldn't stop, of course. So, the next time he tried to grab her hair, his chair broke down and jack found himself sprawled on the floor and mocked by the other kids."

"What's so unusual about this?" I asked.

"Don't you find it very curious that the chair collapsed exactly when he tried his mischief and just a few moments after Hermione promised to punish him?"

"I believe it is just a coincidence. He has probably unnerved her for a long time by now – probably since school started, and Hermione was probably warning him more than once. I see nothing peculiar about this."

I turned to my daughter. "Hermione, have you done anything to Jack's chair?"

"No, I've never touched it!" reproached Hermione.

"Jack, have you seen Hermione do something to your chair?" I asked the boy.

"No", he said.

"Well," I smiled at the two adults, "this looks like an unfortunate coincidence. I'm not sure I like the way my daughter is treated, though. You should not allow anybody to mock her or do any mischief to her. You can't force the children to become friends, but you should at least protect them."

"Oh, of course, Dr. Granger," said the principal. "We are doing our best, and we shall pay special attention to her, so she doesn't have to suffer at school."

That was the end of the meeting. I tried to get some more information on our way back home. "Do you know what happened, why he fell down?" I asked Hermione.

"I don't know" she said. "I only wished he was punished, as the teacher doesn't really mind. She thinks it is normal for boys to pull girls' hair. I thought that if he fell in class it would be an appropriate punishment."

"Didn't you wish it with some more details?" I wondered.

Hermione smiled. "I thought that if the side legs of the chair were broken he would fall very nicely. It would hurt him, but would not cause any real damage."

"And that's what happened?" I asked, almost expecting the answer.

"Yes. The moment he touched my hair, his chair gave in and he found himself on the floor, but I did nothing." She sounded quite content.

It could really be just a coincidence, but I wondered…

Hermione was seven when we took her to New-York, to visit some relatives. Their daughter was about the same age as Hermione. She had a doll-house, similar to the one we had at home, but many more dolls than Hermione, who showed very little interest in them. We bought Hermione another doll, so she could have her own when playing with that girl. Hermione loved the new doll, especially due to its magnificent dress and took it with her everywhere.

We were visiting the Statue of Liberty. It was a windy day and we were quite reluctant to go to the top, but Hermione was too excited for us to change our plans. On the first floor balcony we looked around, enjoying the view. Hermione wanted her father to hold her higher so she could see everything. A gust of wind grabbed the doll out of Hermione's hand and it was falling down rapidly. "Oh, no!" cried Hermione. She put her hand beyond the banister and closed her eyes in concentration. A moment later there was another gust of wind and the doll jumped into Hermione's hand. She grabbed her doll tightly and urged us to go inside, far from the wind.

"What happened out there?" I asked her once we were safely inside.

"The wind took my doll and I asked it to bring my doll back" she explained. I didn't bother to ask how she did it, but I wondered…

When she was nine, Hermione was reading practically everything. She had already read all the fiction books we had at home, except a few I hid well due to their contents, which wasn't appropriate for children. She was also reading many of the science books and even some of the books we had used during our studies at the university.

"I was reading that book and found some words I couldn't find in the dictionary" told me Hermione one evening.

"Can you show me?" I asked her.

"It's in the study. I'll bring it," said Hermione. I thought she would go there, but she just seemed co concentrate for a second and then the book came sailing in the air into her hand.

"How did you do this?" I asked. This time she couldn't say it was the wind and it surely wasn't a coincidence.

"I just wished the book to come into my hand. Is there something wrong about it?" she said innocently.

"No, dear. There's nothing wrong with it, but it is highly unusual and it may frighten many people."

"Yes, I know" she said sadly. "I once tried to do it in the library and all the kids ran away saying I was a witch."

"Do you want to be a witch?" I asked her.

"No! Witches are bad and ugly. I don't want to be bad and I don't want to be any uglier."

"I don't know if witches really exist" I told her, "but many stories have good and beautiful witches as well. You have read 'The Wizard of Oz', haven't you?"

"Yes… and Cinderella's fairy godmother is also a witch, really…" She was quite thoughtful.

"You see, it is more interesting to read about bad and good fighting than just about the good. This is why you read of so many villains in books and in newspapers. They may be fewer than the good guys, but good guys are no news."

"Yes, I can see that", she smiled. "I can be a good witch, but I will never be a beautiful witch with these teeth."

I felt a pang of pain in my heart. She inherited those teeth from me. "There is no safe medical treatment for that, but if you are going to be a witch, maybe you could change them by magic."

Her face fell. "Oh, I wish this could be true, but magic isn't real – you told me so."

"I may have been mistaken" I told her. "You moved this book from way over there without touching it. Wasn't this magic?"

"I wish I knew…"

She seemed quite moody for a nine-year old, and she made me wonder…

By now it was clear to me that Hermione had a very special talent, that she could do things none of us could and that she had some… well – magic – in her. My husband wasn't so sure about the magic, but he also acknowledged her uniqueness. We just didn't know what to do about it. Would these abilities be of any use for her in the future? Were there other people with similar abilities from whom she could learn? What would be the best education to give to our little talented girl?

I had been watching for other people with similar abilities. But the only ones I found were the various magicians appearing on TV, in clubs and other entertainment venues. I knew most of them were probably just using tricks to achieve the "magical effect", but maybe one or two were really magical? As far-fetched as it sounded, especially for such a logical family as ours, I had to give it a chance.

I selected a few magicians who seemed to be the most accomplished and sent them letters depicting Hermione's capabilities, the way I could see them. I didn't really expect any help, but I still harbored a little hope.

I got two responses within a week. They were practically the same: "I'm sorry that I am unable to help, but I don't know anything about magic, the kind you describe your daughter does. My occupation, as you may know, does not involve any real magic, if such thing even exists. I only use well known techniques to baffle the eyes and minds of the spectators in order to create the illusion of magic. If what you depicted in your letter is correct, then your daughter has talents way beyond my understanding."

It took two more weeks for another response. It started in a similar tone to the other two, but then it added: "I tried to get in touch with a friend who seems to know some more about this. It took some time to contact him, as he has no telephone and doesn't get mail, but eventually I met him and showed him your letter. He said that if your daughter has real magic in her than you have nothing to worry about. In that case you will be contacted sometime after her eleventh birthday. Meantime – a good general education would be just fine. I'm sorry I can't give more details, but this is all that I could get."

Well, I thought, her eleventh birthday was only a year away. We could wait another year or so. Yet I wondered…

Hermione's eleventh birthday had come and had gone with nothing special happening. I was no longer surprised to see an apple flying from the kitchen to her hand, or a book settling itself on the upper shelf. I hoped that whoever intended to contact us would do that soon, as we really couldn't think of an appropriate school for our very talented but not too popular daughter.

We went on a short vacation to Ireland, hoping it would not prevent anybody from contacting us. I was too tense to enjoy that vacation, but Hermione – oblivious to my efforts – along with her father enjoyed it very much.

We returned home in mid July and the letter came a week later. It was not a regular letter. It had no stamp and no return address but it sported a wax seal on its back with a special symbol stamped into it. The letter was addressed to Miss Hermione Granger and I had a feeling it was what I was expecting for several months already.

Hermione looked quite bewildered. She didn't expect a letter from anybody. Once she opened it and read the first page she was even somewhat enraged. "Somebody is trying to make a fool of me! This is an invitation to attend a magical school!" she complained.

"No, dear," I told her. "I believe this is real. You do have magical powers, so it is just natural to send you to a magical school."

"Oh…" she pouted, turning to the other pages. "It looks like somebody is coming this evening to introduce us to the magic world" she said after she finished reading. "Will Dad be here on time?"

"Yes. He promised to be home before dinner and I'm going to remind him, just in case."

Hermione read the letter several times over and I could see her excitement rising. Once we were started dinner, she could hardly sit still and frankly – neither could I. Only my dear husband managed to keep the façade of "business as usual".

We were already removing the dirty dishes from the table when the doorbell rang. I asked Hermione to open the door.

"Hello, I'm Alfred Sommer, and you are probably Miss Hermione Granger. Am I right?" I heard the man at the door.

"You are. Please come in", said Hermione in a well educated tone.

We both left the kitchen and greeted the stranger.

"I'm Alfred Sommer from the Muggle Relation Department in the Ministry of Magic. I'm here to introduce you to our world and help you and Hermione get ready for Hogwarts."

Hermione had many questions for the man. We could hardly say a word, but Hermione asked all the questions I could think of and many more. Our guest showed us some simple magic, moving a vase from one table to another, and Hermione moved it back just as easily.

"You are going to be a very powerful witch" commented our guest, "if you are already doing this kind of magic with no training and no wand."

I didn't mind. All I wanted for Hermione was to succeed in whatever she did and to be happy.

We met that same man a few days later in London, when he took us shopping in Diagon Alley. Hermione was delighted, and so was her father, but I started worrying when I saw her "Defense against Dark Arts" book. It seemed like bad wizards were more than just fairytales, and that was really bothering me.

The rest of the summer passed just too quickly and then we found ourselves escorting Hermione to platform 9¾. We would have been lost there, unable to find the platform, but we got all the details beforehand from Mr. Sommer and once we came near we also noticed other families vanishing at that wall.

We said goodbye to Hermione with mixed feelings. She was going to start a new life with people like her – all magical – and we were happy for her, but would she ever be our little daughter again? Wouldn't she grow apart from us? I hoped this would not happen but I was sure it would, at least to some extent.

"Don't worry! I'll be fine and I'll write to you as soon as I can," she promised as we said goodbye, and before we knew it – the train was pulling out of the station taking Hermione to the great unknown and leaving us behind.


End file.
